


Selective Memory

by summerstorm



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Age Difference, American Idol S9, Crack(ish), F/M, One Night Stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-04
Updated: 2010-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about Kara is it's not all fun and games and mocking of futile pseudo crushes on contestants for her. She takes this whole thing seriously, and Casey's half convinced she's crushing on him seriously, too. Set during top 24 week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selective Memory

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know why I wrote this. I think it was a way to channel the cringing at the whole Kara/Casey thing on the show into something... I can't really call this "useful," but it's something that can be compartmentalized, unlike second-hand embarrassment, so. That's my explanation and I'm sticking with it. Try not to hold it against me.

The thing about Kara people don't know is, she's not as annoying as she seems on TV. If Casey was watching himself on these episodes, he would maybe try to make a case for sexual harassment, but in real life, it just means he's being showcased and getting through the rounds, and hell, he's not going to complain about that, even if it means he's consistently being objectified by thirty million watchers. He doesn't mind. At all.

The thing about Kara is it's not all fun and games and mocking of futile pseudo crushes on contestants for her. She takes this whole thing seriously, and Casey's half convinced she's crushing on him seriously, too, even if she is — he believes she is — married. He's not entirely sure. But it comes across as a serious sort of _if you make it in the industry you're gonna have to deal with this all the time_ crushing, and it's not horrible for his ego to be looked at like that. It's pretty damned enjoyable, actually, and it makes the process a little more fun — not just for him, but also for the nervewracked audition room and Lilly's inclination for snarking him out and probably for the editors, who seem to have nothing better to do with their airtime than make one of their judges into a mouthpiece for the cougar demo.

He never actually considers he could end up fucking her until she shows up to his hotel room a few hours after the top 12 girls show and corners him against the door he just freaking opened for her.

"I can't put you through any more rounds," she says, fast. "I can't even tell white lies in your favor because America will watch the same thing I do at almost the same time I do. Take my clothes off."

"Are you serious?" Casey says. It would be easy to just assume she is by the way she's already taken care of half the buttons on his shirt, but he's having a little trouble absorbing the situation.

"Of course I'm serious," Kara says, almost a whine, pulling her shirt over her head to reveal a weirdly cute lacy purple bra, "and you need to put me out of my misery."

Somewhere in the back of his mind Casey knows there's gotta be a clause somewhere in both their contracts forbidding this kind of thing — no must, there _is_, he signed it, she has to know he signed it — but she's actually kind of really hot and putting herself out there first and it would be a serious dick move to say no. Plus Casey's not really one to pass up on no-strings-attached sex, even if the ethics involved are inordinately questionable.

He voices that last thought for her benefit, the last word coinciding with Kara yanking his shirt off and moving on to unfastening his jeans, and she just looks down and drags his zipper down and drops to her knees right in front of him.

"Oh, God, okay," he groans, and he lets his head hit the door with a loud thunk of defeat. That's partly because he's being an idiot right now and there's no one around to yell some sense into him, and partly because Kara DioGuardi is at mouth level with his dick and practically salivating for it. He'd have to be dead or have much tighter principles than he's ever had not to react to a woman pulling his pants down along with his underwear without any ado or mentions of foreplay or reminding him he'd be drawing the short end of the stick if he blabs a word of this to anyone. She's so focused on sucking him off she's not even thinking of the context of it. It's crazy.

"Fuck, yes," Kara says, angling his hips towards her face. Her fingers dig into his thighs, and she places a few random openmouthed kisses over his stomach and hipbones before bowing her head to lick a stripe along his dick, base to tip, and then wrapping her lips tightly around the head, tongue flicking around to tease him.

Casey's head hits the door again. This time it actually hurts like a bitch for the whole second he concentrates on the pain before Kara distracts him by swallowing down his dick.

She works him into not noticing he's threaded his fingers through her hair until she whimpers, pleased, when he tugs at it by accident. He really wouldn't have pegged Kara for someone who gets off on having her hair pulled, but he wouldn't have pegged her for someone who makes a show out of having a crush on an American Idol hopeful and then goes through with it either. She's about as chock-full of family-unfriendly surprises as her mouth's full of his cock.

He hisses out a few cursewords at the thought as well as Kara moaning around him, sucking him in deeper and harder and more intense now, somehow, and he's struggling to make it last a little longer when she pulls off him with a shamelessly loud pop.

"Do you want to come now?" Kara says breathlessly, lips still brushing skin, lazily swirling her tongue over the slit every time she pauses between sentences. Her eyes flicker from his face to his dick like she can't pick where to look at. "Or do you wanna fuck me? You just have to bend me over somewhere, I'm not wearing anything under this skirt. There're condoms in my back pocket. I'm flexible here — mix and match, whatever."

Which, holy shit. Casey's well aware he's not hard to look at, but he's not attractive enough to warrant this kind of franticness from someone. A part of him is kind of scared of what would happen if he said or had said no at any point throughout this whole enterprise of Kara's, and another part of him finds it vaguely refreshing, and most of him — the part that's currently lacking the blood that's gone to his dick — is just saying _yes, yes, hell yes_ because he hasn't gotten laid since he came out to L.A., and he's not going on stage tomorrow feeling sexually frustrated, no way.

"St—" he tries, coughing to clear his throat so he can say words instead of just growl like he's forgotten how to use his vocal cords. "Get up," he says, holding out a hand she takes gladly, rising to her feet on shaky legs from being bent at the knee for a while. With her face up close, he can see just how fucking horny she is, the way her pupils are dilated and the smirk she's put on is half smug and half fake, an attempt to cover up how she's practically done for just from blowing him, and it's more an instinct than anything else to tilt her chin up and kiss the composure off her lips.

His other hand slides over the curve of her ass, pushing up, and Kara slings a leg around his thigh like she's totally on board with that. He kicks his pants off and clutches the underside of her thighs, pulls her up, and she makes this mewing noise that sounds unintentional — pretty much the first thing she's done that she doesn't seem completely alright with — and it's such a stupid rush, fuck. The feeling only intensifies as she regains a bit of control and rolls a condom down his length, looking down between them like she just wants to watch that — and it's like stopping to think, that moment, a breath of _Jesus fuck, what am I doing_ that only serves to tear his patience to shreds.

As soon as she's done, she hooks her arms over his shoulders, and he wraps her legs around his waist. She's not heavy, but he just hoists her up for as long as it takes to move to the perfectly good bed dying of boredom a few feet into the room. There's very little care in the way he lets her down, but she doesn't seem to mind, instead tugging his body forward with her calves and clasping her hands behind his neck to draw him in.

He kneels between her legs on the bed, pushing her farther into it, and she heaves out a sigh, body relaxing a little even though more than half the length of her back remains well off the bed so her legs stay in place. The shift aligns their hips together and it feels so good, so warm and inviting and it's ridiculously exhilarating that she's so fucking gone for him. So he bends over her, resting his forearm next to her shoulder and ducking his head to bite at her neck as he reaches between them to drive himself into her.

The way she arches her back to meet him looks near painful, but she doesn't seem bothered at all by it — he doesn't even have time to adjust his position before she's set a rhythm. Not a fan of waiting, then.

"I didn't think you'd be so easy," he says. His teeth tug at her earlobe, and then he drags the tip of his tongue behind her ear, down to the beginning of her jawbone.

"Not that easy," she hisses, following her words with a loud moan, "I have to really want something to go get it. If I already really want it, it's— I'm— _fuck_— I'm not that easy."

Casey laughs with his entire body and she shudders under him, holding on tighter, nails grazing his back. "Okay," he says.

"Fuck, so—" she says, and then she makes a sound so thin and tinny it's pretty much a whimper and her stomach tightens under his hand, and he can almost feel her orgasm, her walls clenching tight around him. He's so close — he just needs a few more seconds of this, of her squeezing him and yanking her bra down so he can feel the peaks of her nipples against his chest, under his fingers, and that's how he comes, fast and good and inevitable, mouthing at the side of Kara's neck.

Kara sprawls out on the bed and breathes in and out, slow and spent, as he gets rid of the condom, and then he joins her, stretching out and catching his breath.

He only fights the urge to collapse right then and there because this is not the kind of situation where he feels comfortable lying back and watching a woman he just fucked retrieve her clothes from the floor. Not that sitting up, putting on pants and finding her a hairbrush when she asks for one is a hell of a lot better on a scale of awkwardness, but he hopes it's at least somewhat helpful.

Before she leaves, she says, finally, "I won't say anything if you don't," and he lifts his hands in acquiescence because there's _no way_ a single word is coming out of him on the subject of having had sex with Kara, ever. Kara adds, "And this isn't happening again. It could get messy and when things get messy people get vindictive and I don't want to want to screw you over, okay?"

"Got it," Casey says, "not a problem," and they stand there wordlessly until Kara reaches up to clutch the back of his neck and pulls him down for a long goodbye kiss that is all closed lips and situational chastity.

"That was part of—" Kara says, then sighs. "Never happening again. After now."

Casey nods and says, "Right. Five feet away from you at all times."

"Attaboy," Kara says, and heads for the door.


End file.
